


Memories

by Katalyna_Rose



Series: Vhenan and Associated Stories (Lyna Lavellan) [35]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, Light Angst, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 22:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11136186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalyna_Rose/pseuds/Katalyna_Rose
Summary: In memories, Solas watches Lyna, tortures himself with his mistakes. And Lyna finds him.





	Memories

The memory was one Solas visited often. He moved through it with ease, viewing it from a hundred different angles, ducking waving limbs when necessary. His face was drawn and closed, expression fierce; he was using this memory to torture himself.

Surely he deserved it. In the memory, Lyna screamed in pain and clutched her left wrist as though that could stem the tide of agony. Solas allowed each tiny noise of distress to spear his heart, keeping his eyes on her no matter who else was speaking. They were all speaking, arguing about the Exalted Council and how best to mitigate the fallout from his own actions. And Lyna was terrified, though she could never show it to them.

“All the rifts I closed, all the demons I faced,” she mourned when the pain could no longer be hidden. When she broke. “I don’t want to die!” Solas clenched his fists, shoulders bowing under the weight of the desperation in her voice. He bowed his head when she continued, amending her statement, “Not… knowing that the world still needed me.” She didn’t want to die, but she couldn’t be selfish. And it was all his fault.

As she collected herself, polite mask back in place, he froze within the memory. With one finger, he touched Lyna’s cheek. It was soft and altogether too real. Even in memory, she was beautiful to him. He began the scene again.

And she couldn’t watch, couldn’t let him continue. “Why do you torture yourself with the past?” she asked him. He spun around, searching for her, but she knew he would find her only if she let him and continued to float just outside of his perception, a familiar dance.

“How did you get here?” he asked, sounding oddly desperate.

“You let me in,” she told him. His expression became strained, and she laughed lightly. “In moments like this, you all but drag me here,” she admitted, knowing that this would likely be the last time she was able to eavesdrop on him in sleep; he would ward against her. But she couldn’t let him continue like this. “Why do you do this to yourself?” She felt him probing, moving closer. She moved away.

“It is no less than I deserve,” he said softly, his eyes darting around as though his sight could find her. He should know better.

“It is over,” she reminded him. “It is done. I do not hold it against you.”

“How can you not?” he whispered brokenly, his search for her momentarily abandoned. “I nearly destroyed you. I _did_ destroy the Inquisition.”

“No,” she said fiercely. “I received the Anchor by _my_ will, not yours. And you saved my life, saved me when it would have destroyed me. And _I_ disbanded the Inquisition. It was simply time, our work completed. The reason for its existence was over, so I sent them all home.”

He laughed without humor. “You cannot lie to me, vhenan,” he reminded her softly. “Not here.”

“Perhaps not,” she allowed, a smile in her voice. His search for her resumed. “But you have still not answered my question. Why are you here?”

He hesitated. “I told you when last we met that I am not a monster, but I have never been certain if I believe those words.” In her shock, she almost let him catch her before moving away.

“No love of mine could ever be a monster,” she told him. He bowed his head.

“You simply do not know me,” he whispered.

“Don’t say that!” she snapped. He jerked, surprised to hear her lose her temper. “I know all I need to know to love you! I know that you are kind, that you would help refugees rather than pursue your own purposes. I have seen you do it. I know that you are knowledgeable and willing to share. How many nights did we talk through in the rotunda until dawn while I studied your latest mural? I know that you are creative, in both art and studies. You always found the most interesting ways to look at things, and I will always treasure the murals and sketches and paintings you left behind. A person’s past does not define who they are. I did not need to know that you were once Fen’Harel to know that you are _Solas_ and I love _you_.”

He took a deep, shaking breath, abandoning his quest for her, allowing her to remain with him. She did not take the bait. “You love a shadow, the remnants of a man who ceased to exist long ago,” he insisted.

“No,” she said gently. “You were Solas first, and you will remain Solas long after Fen’Harel is laid to rest. My people forgot the truth, but _I_ will never forget. I will never forget you.” He jerked as she repeated his last words to her back to him.

Knowing what would happen yet acting anyway, she coalesced her consciousness into form just before him and took his face in her hands. She pressed her lips against his gently and for a moment he remained hard and unyielding. Until, all at once, he broke and wrapped her in his arms, crushing her lips with his. He leaned her back, making her cling to him, and kissed her until she was breathless.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” he murmured against her mouth as they breathed as one.

“I know, Solas,” she whispered, caressing his face. She felt him pushing her consciousness away, out of his dream, out of the Fade altogether. “Ar lath ma. Var lath vir suledin.” She stopped fighting, allowed him to push her away, let him retreat with his sorrows and self-hatred. It was not the end; she would find him again. She always did.

**Author's Note:**

> Playing Trespasser (again) and just got through that line, the scene that Solas revisits here. Couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he visited the memory. Ended up with this. It's two am and I've been up since 5am. Is any of this coherent? I'm probably going to wake up and wonder if I was drunk and didn't know it when I wrote this (I have not consumed alcohol today).


End file.
